


Trivia

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [209]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluffy Angst, M/M, post-Return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>trivia: noun: triv-ee-uh: details, considerations, or pieces of information of little importance or value.</p><p>late Middle English (in the sense ‘belonging to the trivium’): from medieval Latin trivialis, from Latin trivium:<br/>from Latin, literally ‘place where three roads meet'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trivia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Crucial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399382) by [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456). 



> In commemoration of May 4, 1891.

Once the dust resettled, so to speak, life resumed as normally as it did at Baker Street. Sherlock took up his place alongside his blogger, who fussed perhaps a bit more at him to eat and sleep; John worked his clinic hours as usual, and Mrs. Hudson invaded their flat every so often to make sure the fridge contained actual edible food and not those things best left unidentified.

Sherlock, known for his keen eye and observational skills, 'deductions' he would call them, had no use for trivia such as the solar system, Bond movies, who the reigning monarch happened to be, or what year, month or day of the week it happened to be. John, after all, always knew, and if it was essential to a case or experiment, John would roll his eyes and inform him when it was at that point in time. Until the day he didn't.

He should have noticed something was off, but he was in the midst of one of those clever little problems, and had misplaced a few hours somewhere. So, naturally, he yawned, stretched and asked John, "is it May Day yet?" There was no answer, which was odd, as John was sitting at his desk, or had been sitting at his desk typing away at the latest entry of his blog, just a few moments ago? Or had a few days slipped past him again. He sighed and rolled from the couch and made a few observations: John's jacket and shoes were gone, tea things were left in a jumble, and the newspaper was spread on the counter. May 4...Sherlock looked at the front page and groaned. Stupid, stupid, stupid...of course, the damn daily rag had remembered when he had not. 

He showered and dressed and even managed to choke down a piece of toast. He slipped on his shoes, shrugged into his coat and threw on his scarf and hailed a cab, knowing exactly where his friend had fled to. He hadn't been there since the day he left London, left John, not knowing if he'd be back, he just knew he needed to see his blogger one last time.

John was standing there as he did that day, head bowed, fists clenched. But, this time, Sherlock could reach out for him, touch him gently on the shoulder and look into his reddened eyes as he pulled him into a strong embrace. So, he did.

"Promise me?"

"I do, John. I promise."


End file.
